For A Fleeting Moment
by ArsenicAngel
Summary: He shouldn't be here. Severus knows that even as he kneels beneath the icy spray of water... He shouldn't be here, either, he knows. Not with him, and not like this. But he is, and for a fleeting moment, Severus is glad for it.


Written for the '_rape/non-con_' square for my hc_bingo table. Thanks to writcraft for the glance over this, and much love to uniquepov for the beta work & title suggestion!

I do not own or claim to own any parts of Harry Potter, and make no profit off borrowing pieces of it for this fanwork.

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He shouldn't be here. Severus knows that even as he kneels beneath the icy spray of water that soaks through his clothes, carefully positioned with his legs spread under him so he cannot sit back on his heels. The Quidditch showers are the last place where he should be, and yet they are the only option. There are the dungeons and the showers in the Slytherin dorm, but he _can't_ go there. Not now. Not like this. So instead, he stays and bows his head as water runs over his face, and for just a few precious moments, his body is too gripped with the chill to feel anything more.

And then he moves, because his mind cannot handle being idle any longer, and pushes his torn school robes off his shoulders. The fabric of them is soaked through by now, but it will do, he thinks, as he awkwardly fists one hand in his robes and reaches back. A sharp pain in his arm protests the movement, but he does it anyway, rubbing the material of his robes against the back of his neck and hissing in pain when he rubs over bruised flesh. But still, he rubs at it, and then scrubs, pressing the fabric hard against his skin until the water soaked into it and still running over him can no longer provide a barrier and he can feel it scraping at his flesh.

Soap would make it better. Or perhaps water hot enough to scald his skin, but he can't be bothered to move for either of them, and his wand was dropped somewhere between the door and here. It might as well be back in the castle, for all the good it can do him now. Shaking his head, Severus simply continues to rub and scrub at himself, until tears well up in his eyes and mingle with the water streaming down over his face from the shower.

He feels it when the skin starts to break beneath the fabric – scraped raw from the desperate attempt to clean the first place their hands had touched him, when they'd held him down as they used his mouth. His free hand trembles as he reaches it up to touch the back of his neck, and when he looks down at it after, blood and water stream down over his fingers and palm until he sticks his hand directly into the spray to wash the blood away.

It's as he's fumbling with the slick buttons of his shirt, all of the skin around the collar of it already scrubbed raw and his robes already stained with traces of his blood, that he hears the footsteps. They skid to a stop behind him, and then a far too familiar voice speaks. Not his name, but near enough. Might as well be, these days.

"_Snivellus._"

Severus doesn't bother looking up as he continues fumbling with his shirt. When his fingers slip on the third button, a small sound of distress escapes him and he tears the fabric instead, gripping one of the places where it had been cut earlier and wrenches at it until it splits and pulls apart. He doesn't look up still when he hears those same footsteps move closer, or when that name is repeated, this time with a question tacked to the end that he pays no mind to.

Instead, Severus picks up his robes again and begins to rub. To scrub. At every inch of his shoulders and his arms, where even the barrier of his shirt and robes between their hands and his body hadn't been enough to keep the feel of it off his skin. It's not until he sees a hand in his periphery that he reacts, jumping back with more speed than he ever thought himself capable of. He moves out of the spray of water, his feet and hands scrambling at the wet floor until he finally falls back onto his arse and lets out an involuntary howl.

And for a moment, all that matters is the searing pain that runs through him from the weight of his body on his arse. He drops down onto his back and turns onto his side as quickly as possible, taking the pressure off and pulling his knees up towards his chest. This time, there is no water to hide the tears, and as he remembers that he's no longer alone, Severus brings an arm up in an effort to cover his bruised face, sucking in one ragged, shallow breath, and then another, as he tries to breathe through the flare of pain.

He isn't quite certain when Black moved or how he failed to notice, but suddenly there are hands on him again and his body goes rigid as a strangled sound falls from his lips. But these hands don't grope and paw – they tuck themselves beneath his arms, half lifting him up from the floor, and Severus immediately tries to twist away. He throws all of his weight into the attempt, but Black holds firm and makes a soft, shushing sound until Severus settles once more, and after a bit of awkward shuffling during which Severus feels himself being dragged across the slick floor until the spray of water hits his skin again. For one instant, it's the same ice cold sheet until he hears an unintelligible murmur and the water warms. Not the burning heat he'd contemplated, but enough warmth to ease the chill out of his body.

Severus shudders beneath it for quite some time, letting the water run over him and soak into his trousers to warm his legs, before he slowly lowers his arms from over his face. He takes one breath and lets it out with an unsteady exhale before taking the next, without daring to look around himself as he eases himself up from his side and back onto his knees. It takes him longer than it should have, and when it's done, he can still feel fresh sparks of pain shooting through him from the shuffling. But he can breathe, and he can feel the water, and his trembling hands reach once more for his discarded robes, because there's still _so much skin_ to wash.

His hands still and his breath catches when suddenly a hand appears in his field of vision again, offering him a proper flannel.

"You shouldn't scrub so hard... you're rubbing your skin raw."

Black withdraws his hand as Severus takes the flannel from him without looking up, only offering a small nod, although he's not certain why he does. Then Black sets a bottle of soap down near him, followed by his wand, and then Black moves away, not out of the shower room, but towards the wall just a few feet off to one side, and drops himself down to the floor with his back pressed against the wall. Severus glances up at him and sees Black holding a towel in his hands and watching him. He makes a vague gesture with the towel and shrugs before he looks away again.

"For when you're done."

For several long moments, Severus only stares at Black as the water beats down on him, and then he tears his eyes away to look at the soft flannel in his hand and then to the soap. Letting out an unsteady breath, he reaches for the bottle and gently massages the flannel beneath the spray of water until it builds up a lather. He brings it to his skin then and begins to wash, to rub it over the hand-shaped bruises that litter his sides.

He shouldn't be here. Severus knows this even as he kneels beneath the spray of water beating down over his back and seeping warmth into his bones. _He_ shouldn't be here, either, he knows. Not with him, and not like this. But he is, and for a fleeting moment, Severus is glad for it, as he rubs the cloth over his skin. Because for now, he's not alone, and he doesn't feel like he has to scrub himself quite so hard anymore...


End file.
